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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24223078">Shadow of the Night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/randym/pseuds/Linnadel%20Cameron'>Linnadel Cameron (randym)</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/macex/pseuds/macex'>macex</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Blake's 7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, PGP, Post-Gauda Prime, Whump</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:48:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,520</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24223078</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/randym/pseuds/Linnadel%20Cameron, https://archiveofourown.org/users/macex/pseuds/macex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Gauda Prime, many of Blake's people have been captured by the Federation.  Searching for them, he finds one of Avon's instead: Del Tarrant.  Who cannot be trusted.  But Blake cannot bring himself to kill the man, even though that might be the smart thing to do.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Roj Blake &amp; Del Tarrant, Roj Blake &amp; Klyn &amp; Deva</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally published in <i>Serrated Seven</i>, a <i>Blake's 7</i> fanzine with a hurt-comfort theme. Though this story probably has more hurt than comfort.</p><p>Rated mature due to some adult-ish situations, though there's no smut.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He was the last one left alive.</p><p>     The monotonous grey landscape that surrounded him had
become all too familiar over recent weeks.  He cursed it
hoarsely, throat too dry to form the words properly.	</p><p>     They had left him here, ankle tethered to a grey metal
ring set firmly in the solid, grey rock.  They had given him
standard rations.  No water, but it rained here frequently
enough.  The Federation did not intend for him to die
quickly.</p><p>     He had had companions, at first.  Nineteen other men had
been with him, each secured to his own ring, none in reach of
any of the others.  But there were predators on this world,
yellow-eyed wild dogs, larger and fiercer than any dogs he
had known on Earth.  The survivors of some failed colony,
perhaps.  The humans of this world had left or perished long
ago, but the dogs remained, thrived.  They had learned to
come to this place, to accept the offerings the Federation
left them.  One by one, his companions had fallen, meat to
feed the pack.  He was the most, or perhaps the least,
fortunate of the group; he had found, among the shards of
bone and other detritus that littered the ground, an almost
intact human femur.  Using this, he was able to discourage
the dogs far more effectively than his comrades.  Thus, the
pack saved him for last.  Each night, he listened to them
feed on one of his fellow prisoners.  Sometimes there would
be screams, but these were always brief; unlike the
Federation, the wild dogs were quick and merciful.  Then
there would be only the sharp crack of bone, the snarling
quarrels over especially choice morsels.  When dawn came, he
would look around to see whom it was who hadn't made it
through the night.  He didn't know them, couldn't care about
them, but it seemed a courtesy he owed them, to take note of
their passing.</p><p>     There were none left but him now.  No one would note his
own passing.  He gripped his club of bone more tightly.
Perhaps he could fight them off for one night or two, but he
had no illusions of how it would inevitably end.  He didn't
know why he didn't just give up; somehow he could not bring
himself to do that.</p><p>     The wild dogs slunk nearer, dark, gleaming-eyed shadows
in the dusk.</p>
<hr/><p>     Blake stood in the hatchway of his small ship, gazing
out on the harsh, barren surface of Loenstadt.  Aside from
the landing pad they now occupied, there was no sign of human
habitation.</p><p>     Looking at this forbidding landscape, Blake wanted
nothing more than to slam the ship's hatch shut and show
Loenstadt his afterburners.  But he couldn't do that.  The
meager remains of his intelligence network had determined
that some of the rebels captured on GP might have been
brought here, to this miserable rock in the middle of
nowhere.  If so, Blake had to rescue them.  It was a
responsibility he could not shirk.</p><p>     Deva and Klyn appeared, interrupting Blake's musing.
Blake frowned, seeing the weapons they both carried.  "I
can't ask anyone else to take this risk," he said.</p><p>     "You don't have to ask," Deva replied.</p><p>     "But—"			</p><p>     "Remember GP?  We barely got you into the cryogenic
capsule in time," Klyn reminded him sharply.		</p><p>     Blake scowled.  "I remember," he admitted grudgingly.
"You come with me then," he offered as a compromise.  "Deva,
someone should stay with the ship, and you're the best
pilot."		</p><p>     Deva nodded, ever practical.  "Be careful," he warned,
and turned back toward the flight deck.		</p><p>     Warily, Blake and Klyn slipped through the hatch and
descended the ramp, emerging onto the decidedly unwelcoming
surface of Loenstadt.  It looked even worse up close than it
had from the hatchway.  Blake was astonished at the bleakness
of the landscape.  It was startlingly desolate even for a
prison planet.  No wonder it was a fate reserved for those
the Federation labeled particularly egregious offenders.</p><p>     At first, Blake could detect no sign of life on this
barren, hostile world.  Then Klyn cried, "Look!"  She pointed
sharply off to the left.</p><p>     Several hundred feet away, a flurry of motion caught
Blake's eye.  Squinting in the twilight, he made out a human
figure, surrounded by a pack of animals.  Blake immediately
broke into a run.				</p><p>     Shots fired into the air did not affect the snarling
carnivores.  Taking careful aim, he shot at the outer edges
of the pack.  Surprised, the animals yowled with outrage and
ran off, revealing the ragged figure of a man lying on the
hard-packed ground.</p><p>     Blake hurried toward the man, Klyn close at his heels.
It was no one they recognized: not one of their own.
Disappointed, Blake crouched beside the supine figure — and
nearly got himself brained for his carelessness.  Springing
back, he cursed.  The prisoner had a length of bone, human
bone, in his right fist, and was swinging it wildly.	</p><p>     Blake waited for the right moment, then threw himself
over the prisoner, quickly wresting the makeshift club away.
The man continued to struggle, but did not have much strength
left.				</p><p>     "We will not harm you," Blake said, sitting on the
prisoner's lower back and pinning the filthy hands down.</p><p>     There was no answer, only further struggles.  "Get me
something to tie him," Blake ordered.</p><p>     Klyn came up with a roll of white tape, probably a
binding from the medkit she carried.  Blake bound the man's
hands behind his back, thought for a moment, then bound the
feet as well.  That was when he noticed that the man's ankle
was bound with a strong, slender cord to a heavy metal ring
set in the earth.  Klyn noticed, too, and handed Blake her
gun.  Blake patted the man's booted foot.  "Don't move," he
said encouragingly.  "We won't hurt you." He took careful
aim, and burnt through the binding.</p><p>     "This is an abomination," Klyn growled, glaring around
the area.  Blake, following her angry gaze, saw that there
were many rings set in the ground, surrounded by a grisly
litter of scattered bones and tatters of clothing.	</p><p>     A sick feeling churned in the pit of Blake's stomach.
Loenstadt was far, far worse than he had feared.  No ordinary
prison planet, indeed.</p><p>     "What kind of people could be so barbaric?" Klyn
demanded, incensed.</p><p>     "The Federation," Blake answered simply.  "That is why
we are fighting them."  He hoisted the prisoner up, slinging
him over his shoulder.</p><p>     "There is no excuse for this," Klyn insisted.</p><p>     Blake agreed.  "They like to be able to say that they do
not kill."  He shook his head wearily.  "This poor man must
have annoyed someone quite a bit, to be sentenced to such a
fate."</p><p>     There were no other survivors to be found.  Blake and
Klyn returned to the ship.  Though their captive no doubt
required medical care, there was no time for it.  Every
minute they stayed on Loenstadt was a danger.  It was a
Federation world after all, however deserted and isolated.
So they merely locked the man into an empty cabin, and
concentrated on putting the wretched planet far behind them.</p>
<hr/><p>     Klyn had been studying the scanner readouts intently for
over half an hour.  Finally, she pushed back from her
console, sighing wearily.  "There's no sign of pursuit, and
no sign we were ever detected," she said.</p><p>     "Good," Blake said.  They were safe — as safe they
could be, anyway, all things considered.  He frowned
thoughtfully.  "Damn it, Deva.  If they aren't on Loenstadt,
where the hell are they?"</p><p>     Deva was silent for a long time.  Finally he spoke, very
gently.  "Blake...maybe they were on Loenstadt.  Records
indicated that twenty prisoners were sent there in the last
shipment.  We were in time to save only one."</p><p>     Blake nodded reluctantly.  He clenched his fist.  "I
know.  But I can't believe..."</p><p>     Klyn cleared her throat.  "The one we have might know,"
she said.</p><p>     "Yes," Blake agreed slowly.  He was almost afraid to
find out, but there was no excuse for avoiding it now.
Gesturing to Deva, he headed toward the sleeping quarters.</p>
<hr/><p>     The prisoner lay exactly where he had been left,
sprawled prone on the bed.  He didn't move, but his eyes
glinted as he watched his captors.</p><p>     "My name is Blake.  What's yours?"</p><p>     The man did not respond.  Blake thought for a moment.
"Go get some water," he told Deva.</p><p>     "But—"</p><p>     "Go," Blake insisted.  "I'm in no danger from a man
bound hand and foot, and half-dead besides."</p><p>     Reluctantly, Deva left.  Blake went to the captive,
helping him sit up as gently as possible.</p><p>     Deva returned, holding a metal cup filled with cold
water.  Blake accepted it, and held it to the prisoner's
lips.  The man stared at the cup, but did not drink.  "Go
on," Blake coaxed.  "We aren't going to hurt you."</p><p>     The prisoner leaned forward then, and gulped at the
water as if he had not drunk in days.  He probably hadn't.
At that thought, Blake pulled the cup away.  "You can have
more in a bit, but you'll make yourself sick if you drink too
much now," he said soothingly.</p><p>     The man didn't seem much soothed.  Skittish, he looked
back and forth between Blake and Deva.  Blake sighed.  His
hands reeked where he had touched the prisoner.  "Maybe
you'll think better of us once you're cleaned up a bit," he
said.  He indicated to Deva that they should cut the man's
bonds.</p><p>     "Are you sure that's a good idea?" Deva objected.</p><p>     "No," Blake admitted.  "But if we want him to trust us,
we must trust him."</p><p>     Deva frowned.  "Wasn't that the brilliantly effective
strategy you used on GP?"</p><p>     "You win some, you lose some," Blake said, grinning.</p><p>     Deva's frown deepened, but he did as Blake wished,
releasing their prisoner from his bonds.  Gently, they led
him down the corridor to the lavatory.</p><p>     Blake tried to remove the prisoner's filthy, ragged
clothing, but was shoved violently away.  Deva, ever wary,
pulled out his gun.</p><p>     "That's not necessary, Deva," Blake said.</p><p>     "Blake—"</p><p>     "Put it away," Blake insisted.  He cast a quick glance
at Deva to confirm that his order had been obeyed, then
returned his gaze to the prisoner.</p><p>     Carefully, Blake reached out to touch a tattered sleeve.
"This was a Federation prisoner's uniform," he pointed out.
"That means we are on the same side, you and I."  He smiled
in what he hoped was a friendly manner.  "You are a free man,
as I am.  If you want to keep your clothing, you may.
However, I'm afraid I shall have to ask that you wash it
occasionally, and yourself with it.  This is a small ship."</p><p>     At first, Blake wasn't sure if his words had even been
heard, much less understood.  The man didn't even look at
them, keeping his head down, face shadowed by a mass of dark,
matted hair.  But after a moment, very hesitantly, he began
peeling off the offending clothes.  Deva came forward to give
him a handful of various washing supplies, careful to offer a
chemical depilatory rather than a razor.</p><p>     "Leave the door open," he warned.</p><p>     The prisoner nodded, and continued stripping, slowly and
painfully.  Blake caught his breath as he saw the wounds and
bruises thus revealed.  Whoever this man was, he seemed to
have been rather unpopular with his Federation guards.</p><p>     "Let me help," Blake said, horrified by the profusion of
sores that showed through the grime on the man's skin.  He
stepped forward, but the man jerked away, glaring fiercely.
Shrugging, Blake moved back.  Clearly, his help was less than
welcome.			</p><p>     The prisoner entered the cleansing unit and began
scrubbing gingerly at the dirt that encrusted his inflamed
skin.  Blake was filled with bitter rage, watching.  That was
what the Federation did to decent human beings.  Suddenly he
couldn't stand it anymore.  "I'll go find him some clothes,"
he muttered to Deva, and fled.</p>
<hr/><p>     When Blake returned, a set of clean clothes folded over
one arm, the prisoner had finished with his ablutions.  He
was swathed in a blanket, crouched against the bulkhead.</p><p>     Deva was standing nearby, a peculiar expression on his
face.</p><p>     "What is it?" Blake asked.</p><p>     "The prisoner," Deva answered.  "We know him after all."
Blake shot a sharp look at their captive.  He went over
and took the man's chin in his hand, lifting his face to the
light.  Newly freed of dirt and beard, it proved to be
younger than Blake had guessed, and well-favored.  Dazed blue
eyes met his.  Blake felt the shock of recognition.	</p><p>     "Tarrant," he breathed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tarrant shivered in the blanket he had been granted, hardly sure that this rescue was not just a dream, that he
was not still chained to the surface of Loenstadt, waiting to
be torn apart by the sharp-fanged, yellow-eyed beasts of that
world.  It was so hard to tell reality from delirium.  He had
immediately recognized his rescuers, which perhaps meant that
they were illusory.  Blake, Deva, and a woman — Blake's
technician from the Gauda Prime tracking gallery.  Had he
survived so long only to fall back into the Federation's
hands?  Was it all to begin again?  They had been kind to him
so far, but that tactic had been tried before.  The kindness
would shortly be replaced by cruelty.  He remembered the
taunts and beatings from his guards, which paled to
insignificance compared to the long hours in interrogation,
then the endless days he'd endured, chained out on Loenstadt:
watching while the wild dogs brought down his companions, one
at a time, waiting his inescapable turn.</p><p>     Still, there had been times when he had welcomed the
distraction that the beasts provided.  It was preferable to
the tormenting memories of the past, and even worse, the
things he couldn't remember, things hidden in shadow.  "A
shadow darker than the shadow of the night, the heart of a
conquering darkness..."</p><p>     Tears filled his eyes.  He hoped desperately that this
was just a dream.  He didn't have the strength to go through
it all again.</p>
<hr/><p>     Klyn did not take the news well when they told her.</p><p>     "Tarrant?  That's Tarrant?"  Klyn's dark eyes were
furious.  "Of all the Federation prisoners in the galaxy, we
had to rescue him?"</p><p>     Blake put an arm around the woman's shoulders, offering
silent reassurance.  She would have none of it, however,
shaking him off.</p><p>     "Klyn, it wasn't his fault," Deva said.</p><p>     "Then whose fault was it?  Ours?"</p><p>     Deva shrugged.  "The Federation's, of course."</p><p>     "And how do we know he's not one of them?  A plant?"
Klyn demanded.			</p><p>     "We don't," Blake admitted, "though it would be a rather
elaborate set-up."</p><p>     Klyn appeared unconvinced.  "So what are we going to do
with him?"</p><p>     "Recruit him, knowing Blake," Deva answered dryly.</p><p>     Klyn fell back, aghast.  "Are you out of your mind?" she
said.  "He has no reason to trust us, and we have none to
trust him."</p><p>     "What do you suggest we do with him, then?" Blake asked.
"We can't just kill him.  And leaving him at some port would
endanger us as well as him.  He's not fit to take care of
himself, and if he falls back into Federation hands, they
would eventually find out who he is and how he got off
Loenstadt."</p><p>     Klyn was less than pleased at this revelation.  "And
what if he cuts our throats in our sleep one night?"</p><p>     "I don't think he will.  Anyway, we'll keep him
restrained or guarded at all times, for awhile," Blake said.
"I'll take care of it."</p><p>     "I'll take a shift," Deva volunteered.</p><p>     "Well, I won't!" Klyn snapped.</p><p>     "Klyn..." Blake began.</p><p>     She spun on her heel and left the flight deck.</p>
<hr/><p>     Tarrant sat on the edge of the bed, pulling a thick sock
carefully over his swollen ankle.  Blake watched with mingled
compassion and dislike.  He knew it was not entirely fair to
blame Avon's pilot for the disaster on GP, nor for surviving
when so many of his own people had not.  But he couldn't help
his emotions.  On the other hand, it was hard not to feel
sorry for the pitiful figure Tarrant now presented.  He was
so thin every rib showed, and it would be weeks before his
colorful collection of bruises and lacerations faded.</p><p>     Tarrant still had not spoken, but he seemed grateful for
the clothing he had been given.  It was Blake's, and
therefore far too large.  The oversized clothes made him look
even thinner.  Deva must have suffered similar thoughts, for
he went to the galley and came back with food: emergency
ration wafers — not especially tasty, but very nourishing
and easy on the stomach.</p><p>     Tarrant would not accept the food from Deva, but when it
was left on the bed beside him, he grabbed it as if he feared
it would be taken away from him.</p><p>     Blake waited until the last crumbs were gone, then went
to stand in front of Tarrant.  "What happened to you?" he
asked.</p><p>     Tarrant didn't respond.</p><p>     "I asked you a question," Blake prodded.
Deva knelt beside the young man.  "Tarrant, we're
looking for our friends," he said.  "Can you tell us who was
with you, down there on Loenstadt?"  He got no more response
than had Blake.</p><p>     "What happened to Avon and Vila?" Blake tried.</p><p>     Again no response.  Deva touched Tarrant's face.  The
young man jerked away, glowering.</p><p>     "He's not well," Deva reported.  "We should take him to
medical before we question him."</p><p>     Blake agreed, impatient as he was.  In fact, he felt
somewhat ashamed that they hadn't done it sooner.</p><p>     Between them, they managed to draw Tarrant to his feet.
Blake tried to support him, but he pulled away.  Proud
bastard.</p><p>     Tarrant, who had been moving none too fast to begin
with, slowed even more as they approached the dispensary.</p><p>     "Come on," Blake ordered sharply.</p><p>     "He's afraid," Deva said.</p><p>     Blake realized that it was true.  The young man was
staring wide-eyed at the medical equipment, trembling with
sheer terror.  "Who knows what they did to him," he spat
bitterly.  Blake knew from personal experience what it meant
to be taken to a Federation "hospital."</p><p>     Deva took over, gently taking Tarrant's hand and coaxing
him over to a bed.  "Come, boy," he said.  "We won't hurt
you, I promise."</p><p>     Tarrant allowed himself to be led forward, not so much
reassured as resigned.</p>
<hr/><p>     For a long time, Tarrant lay stiff on the bed.  To his
astonishment, no one had intentionally hurt him.  They had
attached him to various scanners, but nothing particularly
painful.  The antiseptic applied to tears in his skin had
stung, sharply at times, but was surely necessary.  He had
not even been given drugs; though Deva had offered him some
small blue pills, he hadn't pressed the matter when Tarrant
refused.  And a discreet inspection of the room had not
revealed the presence of interrogation machines.  That did
not mean there weren't any, however.  He expected to be taken
to one, or at least to a cell, at any minute.</p><p>     But it didn't happen.  After disinfecting and dressing a
ragged bite on his right wrist, Blake had left.  Deva sat in
a chair nearby, but there was no other guard in sight.
Eventually, the red-haired head nodded forward, and Tarrant
realized Deva had fallen asleep.</p><p>     He waited awhile longer, still expecting to be taken to
a cell.  But no one came.  He sat up slowly.  It seemed he
had been forgotten.</p><p>     Knowing he might never get a better chance, he acted
quickly.  There was a heavy metal tray on the bedside table;
he applied it solidly to the back of Deva's head.  The man
fell silently to the floor.  Ripping off the various sensors
and tubes that attached him to the medical equipment, Tarrant
limped out into the hallway.</p><p>     Waves of dizziness washed over him, and each step was
agony, but he forced himself to move as fast as possible.  He
followed the softly glowing emergency markings on the floor,
knowing they would lead eventually to an escape capsule.
Finally, he saw the familiar symbol marking a capsule
airlock.</p><p>     "Hey!" a voice yelled behind him.  Desperate, Tarrant
sprinted for the airlock without even looking around.  He
jerked frantically at the hatch wheel, leaning his full
weight into it.  The door began slowly inching open, and
Tarrant tried to slide through the narrow aperture.</p><p>     He was knocked abruptly to the deck.  Dazed, he tried to
get up again, but someone was on top of him, holding him
down.  He wanted to struggle, but the pain and exhaustion
were overwhelming.  He lay passively on the cool deck, unable
to summon the strength to even focus his eyes on his captor's
face.</p>
<hr/><p>     "Will Deva be all right?" Blake asked.</p><p>     "He'll be fine in a bit," Klyn replied.  "But I wish
you'd keep a closer watch on that homicidal goon."  She
glared coldly at Tarrant, who lay in the adjacent bed.</p><p>     "I'm sorry, Klyn; you're right," Blake apologized.  He
went to Tarrant's bedside.  The young man's eyes were open,
but they had a glazed appearance about them.  Blake wasn't
sure if Tarrant could understand him, but he spoke anyway.
"I don't know how you managed to move so fast with your
injuries, but you won't be given the opportunity to try it
again.  I've turned the restraint field on.  It's not
comfortable, but you have only yourself to blame for that."
Tarrant didn't react, and Blake spun around to face Klyn in
frustration.</p><p>     "Klyn," he said heavily.  "I'm afraid you were right all
along.  Tarrant is a danger not only to me but to you and
Deva, and the entire rebellion...I don't have the right to
risk that much."</p><p>     Klyn looked decidedly taken aback.  "What are you
saying?"</p><p>     He wasn't sure himself.  He looked at Deva, lying pale
and unmoving against the pillows, and found himself wishing
he had never rescued Tarrant from Loenstadt.  Better yet,
that he had left him to die in the wreckage of Scorpio.
"Maybe...  maybe we could leave him on another prison planet.
One more hospitable than Loenstadt."</p><p>     "Blake, no," Klyn protested.  "He'd never survive in his
condition.  You wouldn't be able to live with yourself."</p><p>     "You were the one who wanted to get rid of him," Blake
pointed out.</p><p>     "I still do," Klyn retorted.  "But you wouldn't be able
to live with yourself if you let me."</p><p>     "She's right," Deva interrupted.  His voice was very
weak, but he was trying to sit up.  Blake and Klyn rushed to
his bedside to prevent him.</p><p>     "Lie still," Klyn chided.</p><p>     "Don't blame Tarrant," Deva said.  "It was my fault.  I
fell asleep."</p><p>     Blake smoothed errant strands of red hair off Deva's
forehead.  "This is a small ship, Deva.  There are only three
of us.  That's not enough to control a hostile prisoner.
As you're always telling me, I have to think of what's best
for everyone..."</p><p>     "I was wrong," Deva said.  "That's the rationale the
Federation uses: the welfare of the majority as an excuse to
crush individuals."</p><p>     "It's not the same!" Blake growled.</p><p>     "Please, Blake," Deva said.  "It's not the boy's fault.
He's confused and frightened, not to mention half-delirious
with fever.  We can afford to give him another chance."</p><p>     Blake glanced at the other bed.  Tarrant was watching
them, the expression on his face both apprehensive and
hopeless.  Though they'd been speaking in low tones, Tarrant
clearly had some inkling of the topic of conversation.</p><p>     "All right, Deva," Blake sighed.  "We'll give him one
more chance.  Now try to rest."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tarrant had panicked at first, when he had felt the
restraint field pinning him down.  He jerked futilely against
it, but the harder he struggled, the tighter it held him.
Finally, he gave up in exhaustion, and discovered that the
restraint field was not too uncomfortable, as long as he
didn't fight it.  As long as he kept his movements slow and
small, the field was hardly perceptible — a slight increase
in gravity, as might be encountered under gentle
acceleration.</p><p>     He curled quietly on his bed, unobtrusively watching his
captors.  They were arguing, probably about him.  Tarrant
realized with a pang that they cared about each other, these
people.  He'd seen this kind of loyalty before, and thought
he was long beyond it.  He'd felt it for his crew, when he
was a Federation space captain, and again with his crewmates
on Liberator and Scorpio.  But they were all dead, everyone
he cared about, everyone who might conceivably care about
him.  Tarrant thought he had finished mourning them all, in
those long hours in interrogation.  But watching Blake and
Deva and Klyn, he found tears again leaking from his eyes.</p><p>     To his dismay, Klyn noticed.  She came to his bedside,
asking, "Are you in pain?"</p><p>     "No," Tarrant answered, ashamed.</p><p>     "I can give a painkiller, if you need it.  But only if
you need it; medical supplies are scarce and expensive."
Despite her solicitude, her tone was not friendly.</p><p>     "No, thank you," Tarrant said carefully.</p><p>     "So you have a voice," Blake said, also coming over.
"You didn't hesitate to speak up at Gauda Prime, did you?"</p><p>     Blake's tone was harsh.  Tarrant shut his eyes, in a
useless effort to escape the violence he was sure was
forthcoming.</p><p>     "You're scaring him," Deva objected, from his bed across
the room.</p><p>     "That's my intention," Blake said.  "Look at me,
Tarrant."</p><p>     Tarrant opened his eyes, meeting Blake's intense gaze.
He had no energy left to resist.</p><p>     "You've been nothing but trouble from the very
beginning," Blake said.  "I saved your life.  I've given
you food and clothing and medicine which the rebellion cannot
readily spare.  You pay me back by braining my computer
specialist with a metal tray."</p><p>     "I'm sorry," Tarrant said, and he was.  He was beginning
to suspect that Deva was the only one who had argued on his
behalf earlier.</p><p>     "What shall I do with you?" Blake asked.  "Have you
family or friends, any world you call home?"</p><p>     "No," Tarrant answered.  "No longer."</p><p>     "Then let me offer you a bargain.  I'm not a man to hold
a grudge.  What happened on GP was a misunderstanding, and
I'm willing to assume that you were not yourself when you
attacked Deva.  I'll offer you a place with us."</p><p>     "Here?  On this ship?"</p><p>     "For a few weeks, at least," Blake said.  "Until you're
recovered."</p><p>     Tarrant had gotten used to taking just one day at a
time.  A few weeks seemed like forever.  Forever safe from
wild dogs, and interrogation machines.  A strange feeling
battered his heart like a meteor storm.  After a long moment,
Tarrant recognized it as hope.  "What do I have to do?" he
asked cautiously.</p><p>     "Give me your word.  I need to know that you will help
me whenever you can, and that you will never harm me or my
people."</p><p>     Tarrant considered that.  There was nothing left of his
previous life, no one left to betray.  He thought about the
companionship he'd observed among Blake, Deva, and Klyn, and
realized that he would give anything for the chance to be
included in that.  "Yes," he said.  "I give you my word."</p><p>     Blake seemed pleased.  A warm smile lit his scarred
face.  "All right, Tarrant.  Perhaps now you'll answer some
questions for me."</p><p>     Tarrant's pulse raced with fear.  What if Blake asked
about...the shadow?   Would his generous offer still stand,
once he knew?  But Tarrant had given his word; he met Blake's
eyes, and nodded in acquiescence.
"We came to Loenstadt looking for some of our people —
rebels captured on GP when our base was attacked.  You were
the only one we found.  Were there others?"</p><p>     "Yes," Tarrant said.  "Twenty of us.  I didn't know
their names.  They...the dogs..."</p><p>     Blake's mouth tightened.  He signalled to Klyn, and she
went to the medical computer in a corner of the room.  A
picture flashed up on the dispensary's large visplay screen.
It showed a young man, blond and handsome, a confident grin
on his face.  Tarrant recognized him.  He'd been the last one
to die, the last one to stand between Tarrant and the hungry,
yellow-eyed dogs of Loenstadt.</p><p>     Blake read the expression on Tarrant's face.  He sighed,
bowing his head.  More pictures flashed up on the screen.
Some Tarrant knew; others were, thankfully, strangers.
Finally, there were no more pictures.</p><p>     "Valkenir, Geiger, Soren, Yama, Sydner, and Costel."
Blake listed the names of those who died on Loenstadt.
"Klyn, we'll have to notify their families."</p><p>     "I'll see to it," she said.</p><p>     "The rest may still be alive," Tarrant offered,
remembering dozens of gaunt, unhappy faces glimpsed through
his cell doorway.  "Only the ones who really annoyed them
were sent to Loenstadt.  The others were scheduled for
shipment to ordinary prison worlds."</p><p>     "There are hundreds of Federation prison planets.  Which
one?"</p><p>     "I don't know," Tarrant said.  "Orac..."  What had
happened to Orac?  Tarrant couldn't remember.  Didn't want to
remember.</p><p>     "Do you know where Orac is?" Blake asked sharply.</p><p>     "No," Tarrant replied quickly — too quickly.</p><p>     "I'm not a Federation interrogator, Tarrant.  You can
tell me."</p><p>     "I really don't know," Tarrant insisted.  "I think the
Federation has it."</p><p>     Gently, Blake asked, "What about your friends?  Avon,
Vila, and the others?  Do you know what happened to them?"</p><p>     It was the question Tarrant had been dreading.  The one
that might cost him his tentative acceptance here.  But he
owed Blake an answer.  "Dead," he whispered.  "Avon, Vila,
Soolin, and Dayna are all dead."  He paused, taking a long,
wavering breath.  "I killed them."		</p><p>     Blake's brows shot up in astonishment.  Klyn and Deva
were staring, shocked expressions on their faces.  Tarrant
cleared his throat, then continued.  "I...I don't remember
it, but they told me.  After...  We tried to escape in a
flyer.  They found the flyer, crashed in the woods.  I was
the only one who survived."</p><p>     "That doesn't mean you killed them," Deva put in.</p><p>     Tarrant shook his head.  "I was piloting the flyer."</p><p>     "Then it was an accident," Blake said.</p><p>     Tarrant didn't want to talk about this; just thinking
about it filled him with wrenching pain.  But Blake obviously
cared deeply about his people, and Avon and Vila had once
been his.  He deserved the truth about what had happened to
them.  "I'm not sure," Tarrant confessed.  "I was a good
pilot.  Not as good as I used to tell Avon I was, but too
good to have crashed that flyer by accident."</p><p>     "What are you saying, Tarrant?"</p><p>     "When I came to, I kept repeating..."  Tarrant swallowed
hard and hoped Blake would forgive him.  "I kept repeating
something about death being preferable to capture by the
Federation."</p><p>     "You killed them rather than let them fall into
Federation hands?" Blake asked, shocked.	</p><p>     "I don't know!" Tarrant said, his voice cracking.  "I
don't remember it.  I don't remember any of it!"</p><p>     Blake reached out and gave Tarrant's shoulder a squeeze.
"It doesn't mean you're to blame," he said.  "They may have
lied to you; those Federation interrogators will tell you
whatever hurts the most.  Maybe you weren't the one piloting
that flyer at all.  You were badly injured; maybe one of the
others had taken over.  Maybe there was a freak storm or an
equipment failure..."</p><p>     Tarrant shut his eyes, trembling.  He didn't believe
Blake's soothing words, and Blake probably didn't either, but
the fact that the man was willing to say them meant a lot.</p>
<hr/><p>     Deva's injuries proved to be as mild as Klyn said they
were; by that evening he was up and around.  Despite his
earlier defense of Tarrant, he was uneasy about leaving
him unguarded.  Blake insisted, however.  Tarrant had upheld
his end of their bargain; in return, Blake felt obligated to
demonstrate trust.</p><p>     Thus, Blake, Deva, and Klyn were gathered on the flight
deck, leaving Tarrant sleeping in the dispensary.  The day's
revelations left them all feeling somewhat subdued.  Blake
found himself haunted by the thought of those who had died on
Loenstadt.  If they had only arrived sooner.  If their
information had been a little better, their ship a little
swifter, those people needn't have died.</p><p>     Klyn guessed what he was thinking.  "You heard what
Tarrant said," she offered.  "The others were probably sent
to other prison planets.  There's a good chance they're still
alive.  We'll find them."</p><p>     "Yes," Blake agreed unenthusiastically.  "Intelligence
is working on it right now."</p><p>     Deva was still fretting about leaving Tarrant alone.
"I still think it's a bad idea to leave that boy unguarded."</p><p>     "I thought you trusted him," Blake said.</p><p>     "I do...but it may be unwise to tempt him
unnecessarily."</p><p>     "I don't think he will harm us," Klyn said unexpectedly.</p><p>     "I'm more worried about his harming himself," Deva
explained.  "He blames himself for his friends' deaths."</p><p>     Blake sighed.  He wasn't sure which had been worse,
learning of Avon's and Vila's fate, or witnessing Tarrant's
terrible grief and guilt over his part in it — whatever it
had been.  "No," Blake said.  "He won't kill himself."  He
remembered the battered but defiant man he'd pulled out of
Scorpio's wreckage, and the protracted horror endured on
Loenstadt.  "Not Tarrant.  He wants to live too much."</p>
<hr/><p>     Tarrant pulled his blanket closer, luxuriating in its
warmth.  It had been so long since he had been actually warm.
In wonderment, he reflected on the sudden change in his
fortunes.  Blake had not even been angry when Tarrant
admitted what had happened to Avon.  He had listened to
Tarrant's confession, offering reassurance rather than the
expected recrimination.  Then he turned off the restraint
field, thanked Tarrant for his help, and left, taking Deva
and Klyn with him.  Tarrant cherished the peace and comfort
of the moment, forcing past memories and future apprehensions
from his mind.	</p><p>     Eventually, Klyn came back in.  She brought a tray of
food, and sat with him as he ate.  Tarrant watched her
surreptitiously.  Her face was pretty, but there were hard,
bitter lines etched in it.</p><p>     "You don't like me, do you?" he ventured finally.</p><p>     She looked at him, her gaze unreadable.  "I know it
wasn't your fault...not entirely, anyway.  But Shan was my
son.  It's not easy to forgive."</p><p>     "Shan?" Tarrant repeated, completely baffled.</p><p>     "You don't remember him?" she said.  "You killed him!"</p><p>     "I'm sorry," Tarrant said.  "Apparently, I killed a lot
of people on Gauda Prime without remembering."	</p><p>     Klyn gave him a peculiar look.  "We found his body by
the stairs," she said.  "He'd been shot by an unknown weapon.
Not ours, and not theirs.  Yours."</p><p>     A dim memory rose out of the confusion.  "He attacked
me," Tarrant protested.</p><p>     Klyn's eyes flashed.  "He was doing it for his own
protection, as well as mine."</p><p>     "Soolin killed him," Tarrant said quietly.  "Blake had
my gun."</p><p>     "You remember all that."</p><p>     Tarrant nodded.  "It's later that things get fuzzy.  So
I wasn't the one who killed your Shan, if that makes any
difference."</p><p>     Klyn ignored the second part of his comment.  "When
exactly do your memories deteriorate?" she asked.</p><p>     "I don't remember much after I was stunned in the
tracking gallery.  My next clear recollections are of waking
in a Federation prison hospital.  They were giving me so many
drugs..."
"Tarrant, I want to do a psychscan on you."</p><p>     Tarrant felt ill at the thought.  He pushed his suddenly
unappetizing meal away.  "If you think it's necessary," he
said, carefully keeping his voice level.</p><p>     "I do."</p>
<hr/><p>     "Why did you kill your friends, Tarrant?"</p><p>     The interrogation machine sent waves of agony pulsing
along his nerves, and he thrashed against his restraints.
Had he killed them?  He couldn't remember.  If he had, it was
for their own good, it must have been...  Better that they
were dead than enduring this.</p><p>     There was a stinging sensation in his left arm, hardly
perceptible compared to the searing pain of the interrogation
machine.  More drugs.  Drugs to heighten his sensitivity to
pain, drugs to keep him from losing consciousness, drugs that
clouded his mind and made it hard to separate reality from
unreality.</p><p>     Another agonizing jolt burned through his body, and
voices were demanding answers again.  "Tell us, Tarrant.
They're all dead now, you made sure of that.  So what does it
matter?  Answer, and we'll leave you alone."</p><p>     They were right.  His friends were all dead.  Nothing
mattered now.  He began to talk.</p>
<hr/><p>     Blake was on watch that night when he got a call from
Klyn.  "What are you doing up so late?" he demanded.</p><p>     "Come to medical," she said succinctly.</p><p>     The dispensary was dimly lit, the lights lowered to
simulate night.  Blake's first thought had been that Tarrant
had taken a turn for the worse, but he seemed to be sleeping
peacefully.  Then Blake saw the equipment lying on the table
nearby.  A psychscanner.</p><p>     "What is it?" he asked.</p><p>     "I thought it was odd that he remembered some things but
not others.  So I ran a psychscan on him."</p><p>     "And?"</p><p>     "The amnesia is caused by a level ten mental block."</p><p>     Blake cursed softly.  That indicated that some kind of
programming was a strong possibility.  He gazed at Tarrant's
still form.  Asleep, the pilot looked thin, tired, and very
young.  It was hard to believe that such an innocent-looking
boy could be the source of so much trouble.</p><p>     But trouble he was.  "A level ten mental block?  Is
there any way to find out what's behind it?"</p><p>     "No.  Not a level ten.  Probing any further could
ruin his sanity."</p><p>     "Damn!"</p><p>     "It could be self-induced, rather than the result of
artificial programming," Klyn pointed out.  "If he really did
kill his friends, that could explain it."</p><p>     "We have to find out."</p><p>     Klyn shook her head.  "We can't.  Not in good
conscience.  It could destroy him."</p><p>     Blake seized on the opening.  "Could?"</p><p>     "If he is clean, if it is self-induced, then to force
that barrier would almost certainly drive him insane.  A
barrier that strong is an indication that whatever is on the
other side is something he cannot live with."	</p><p>     Blake ran his hands through his hair, and wondered what
they were going to do.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tarrant slept soundly for several hours.  But when his
initial exhaustion was sated, he grew restless, tossing and
turning in his bed until his eyes finally blinked open.</p><p>     He looked around, saw the psychscanner resting on the
counter and shivered.  They wouldn't keep him on the ship
now, not after learning about the block.  For all any of them
knew, he had been programmed by the Federation.  He was a
ticking bomb waiting to go off — much too dangerous to have
around.</p><p>     Unable to get his mind off the results of the psychscan,
Tarrant chewed on his knuckle and watched the door to the med
unit, waiting for them to come for him.  Occasionally he'd
drift off, but only for minutes at a time.  Then he'd nod
awake and his vigil would begin again.</p><p>     Towards ship's morning, he realized why they hadn't come
for him...yet.  They weren't the type to shove a man out an
airlock.  They'd land the ship first and leave him on some
planet with a breathable atmosphere.  He was safe, safe until
the ship touched down.  With that small reprieve as
consolation, his body gave in to its weakness and he fell
asleep.

</p>
<hr/><p>     A sharp kick woke Tarrant from uneasy, fevered dreams.
"Get up, deserter!"</p><p>     He pushed himself off the floor where he'd been
sleeping.  There were two guards in his cell.  No, oh no.  It
couldn't be time for interrogation already...</p><p>     "You're a lucky little deserter, Tarrant," one of the
guards said.  "No interrogation for you today.  In fact, no
interrogation again, ever."  He gave Tarrant a desultory kick
in the chest, to emphasize his point.</p><p>     Tarrant gasped, half in pain, half in despair.  No
interrogation, ever again.  He knew what that meant.  "Am I
going to get a last meal?" he asked.</p><p>     Incensed, Evans drove his knee powerfully into Tarrant's
ribs, knocking him stunned and breathless against the wall.
"Keep your mouth shut, deserter!  Bastard!"  His fist crashed
into Tarrant's cheekbone.  Then the other guard was pulling
Evans off.</p><p>     "Come on, Lu!" Evans pleaded.  "Let me work him over,
one more time.  My brother was stationed at HQ when the rebel
slime attacked it!  He died in the line of duty, because of
this deserter.  Left a wife and a little girl.  This is my
last chance to get revenge!"</p><p>     "No, you'll kill him.  We want him in blooming health
when he gets to Loenstadt.  Last longer that way."</p><p>     Slowly, Evans smiled, his anger falling away.  "You're
right, Lu."  He reached down to Tarrant, pulling him to his
feet.  Tarrant fully expected to be punched back down again,
but Evans merely pummeled him a bit, herding him out of the
cell.  "Like I said before, you're a lucky little deserter."</p><p>     "That's right," Lu said as they went down the corridor.
"Didn't stay here long at all.  We should have known that a
man who'd turn on the Federation that raised and trained him
wouldn't be long about betraying his new loyalty either."</p><p>     Evans gave Tarrant a friendly shove.  "And now you're
all used up, Tarrant.  You've told everything you know, so
it's time to dispose of you."</p><p>     "But there'll be no ordinary execution for a deserter
like you, who's caused so much trouble.  You're going to
Loenstadt."</p><p>     They laughed, and then informed him in minute detail,
with great relish, of his fate.  "There you'll be, tied out
on that forsaken rock," Lu finished.  "Wild beasts will chew
the living flesh from your bones.  You'll scream so loud
they'll hear you in Sector Nine!"			</p><p>     Evans added, "You're not going to get a last meal,
deserter — you're going to be a last meal!"</p>
<hr/><p>     Tarrant sat bolt upright, his heart pounding in his
chest, then realized it had only been a nightmare.  It was
all in the past now.  He was on Blake's ship.</p><p>     Deva looked up from the medical monitor.  "I'm sorry.
I'd hoped that I wouldn't wake you, but our outdated
equipment is rather noisy."</p><p>     Tarrant remained rigid until he confirmed that they were
still in space.  A pilot could always tell that, even if they
were drifting.  There was a different feel to artificial
gravity, a minute instability that disappeared when the ship
was grounded.</p><p>     Deva studied the monitor for another minute before he
switched it off.  Turning to Tarrant, he asked, "Would you
like some breakfast...or lunch?  It's past noon."</p><p>     Tarrant answered with a question of his own.  "May I get
up?"  If he made himself useful, maybe they would let him
stay.</p><p>     "I don't think that's a good idea."  Deva eyed him
critically.  "You should stay in bed until your fever is
gone.  Antibiotics would allow a quicker recovery," he added
in a half coaxing, half censuring tone.  "If your stomach
isn't up to pills, we have a few vials of..."</p><p>     "Those are for an emergency," Klyn's voice sounded from
the door.  She walked over and closed the drawer that Deva
had started to open.  "Blake needs you on the flight deck;
the navigation computer is acting up again.  He's about to
repair it with a few ill-placed plasma bolts."	</p><p>     Deva rolled his eyes.  "A lot of help that would be."
He hesitated, glancing from Klyn to Tarrant.</p><p>     "I'll take care of things here," Klyn said, identifying
the cause of his indecision.</p><p>     "Then I better go," Deva resolved, "while we still have
computers to repair."</p><p>     Tarrant pushed back the covers and swung his legs out of
bed.  "I don't...don't need taking care of," he said
nervously.  Klyn intimidated him, with her obvious dislike
simmering just below the surface.  Even at her most polite,
she was cold and brusque.  "I was about to ask Deva if there
was something I could do to help.  I don't want to be a
burden."</p><p>     Klyn crossed her arms in front of her chest and frowned.
Clearly, she considered his presence on the ship a burden in
itself.  "We don't..." she started to say, then her lips
turned slightly upward and a brightness flashed in her eyes.
"The galley could use straightening, dishes washed and the
like.  If you're up to it..."  Tarrant nodded.  "Come along
then; I'll show you where it is."</p><p>     Tarrant followed her in stocking feet.  They hadn't
given him shoes.  Blake's pants hung low on his hips and he
reached to tighten the belt, almost smashing into Klyn as she
stopped at an open door.  "In here," she directed with a tilt
of her head.</p><p>     The galley was small and poorly equipped, confirming the
age of the ship.  Instead of a modern recycling unit, there
were separate apparatus for organic and inorganic waste, and
an ancient sterilizer.  Under Klyn's watchful gaze, Tarrant
began loading the reusable items into the sterilizer.  He
moved slowly, handicapped by his infirmities.  After he had
disposed of the clutter on the counter, he looked up and was
relieved to find that Klyn was gone.</p><p>     It took Tarrant over an hour to finish his task.  It
wasn't that large of a job, but he found that he had to rest
often.  By the time he was done, he was too queasy with
fatigue to eat.  After taking a few minutes to gather
strength, he squared his shoulders and headed for the flight
deck.</p><p>     Tarrant followed the double arrows that were standard
guides to a ship's bridge, noting the signs of neglect along
the way.  The bulkheads were a mottle of peeling paint, and
several of the recessed lights were in need of repair or
replacement.  Blake could certainly use an extra hand or two.
But that might not be enough to convince him to keep Tarrant
on board.</p><p>     As he neared what he thought was the flight deck,
Tarrant paused to catch his breath.  Leaning his back against
the wall, he tried to work around the gaps in his memory.
Perhaps they were self-induced; if so, what was it that he
was hiding from himself?  What was it that he could not bear
to face?  Tarrant was afraid he knew: the intentional murder
of his comrades.  The other possibility was hardly
reassuring, either: that the memory block shielded
programming that made him a danger to everyone around him.
Tarrant was relieved that Klyn had refused to probe further
into the shadow, despite his urgings; he wasn't sure he
wanted to know what the darkness concealed.</p>
<hr/><p>     "Your move," Deva said, a triumphant smile touching the
corners of his usually dour mouth.</p><p>     "Don't gloat yet," Blake warned.  "I'm sure there is a
way out of this trap."  He studied the game pieces and
realized that he hadn't thought of his missing people for ten
minutes.  Deva had been right, suggesting the pyramids match
to help relax.</p><p>     "While you're searching for a miracle, I'll check the
scanners."  Deva stood and moved from the small side table to
the central control console.</p><p>     After a lengthy, fruitless examination of the board,
Blake was ready to concede.  He swiveled the chair to face
Deva and saw Tarrant propped in the threshold.  "What are you
doing here?" he demanded, and almost instantly regretted his
harsh tone when the boy's face paled beneath the pattern of
bruises.</p><p>     It took Tarrant almost a full minute to regain enough
composure to answer.  "I finished the dishes.  What would you
like me to do now?"</p><p>     "I thought you were going to stay in bed," Deva scolded,
walking toward the slender pilot.</p><p>     "I wanted to help.  Klyn let me tidy the galley."
Tarrant took two tentative steps into the room.  "I noticed
some lights not working in the corridor.  Perhaps I could
look at those or...or..."</p><p>     "Sit down," Deva ordered, taking the young man's arm and
pulling him to an empty flight chair.</p><p>     Tarrant dodged the hand that Deva aimed toward his face.
"I'm all right.  Really," he insisted, his eyes on Blake as
he made the claim.</p><p>     Blake rubbed at his chin, annoyed at the interruption to
his first moment of peace in a long time.  "Tarrant, I don't
know what to do with you," he said honestly.  "I think Deva
is right.  You should be in medical.  You need time to
recuperate, and, frankly, I'm not comfortable with your
roaming about the ship."</p><p>     "I could paint the bulkhead," the boy suggested with a
hint of desperation.  "Please.  I'd rather be busy."</p><p>     Sighing, Blake nodded.  He could well understand the
need for distractions when one's memories were near
unbearable horrors.  "There are a few rules.  You know about
the block?"</p><p>     "Yes."</p><p>     "Then you know that we can't trust you.  For your own
protection as well as ours, there are places on this ship
that you aren't allowed.  First," Blake said with deliberate
sternness, "this flight deck.  Also the drive chambers,
access shafts, and computer room.  Is that clear?"
"Yes."</p><p>     "If we find you in any of the restricted areas without
permission, I'll have to confine you to a cabin."</p><p>     "I understand."</p><p>     "Good.  The back-up ventilator needs to be disassembled
and lubricated.  Deva will show you where it is and get you
what you'll need for the job."</p><p>     "I'll do that," Deva agreed, "but I don't approve."  He
herded Tarrant out, muttering about the lack of common sense
peculiar to men with curly hair.</p><p>     After they left, Blake buried his head in his hands.  He
hoped he was making the right decision allowing Tarrant his
parole.  He didn't trust his own judgement after what had
happened on Gauda Prime.  Well, there was little harm he
could do with the back-up ventilator.  The machine wasn't
even in the same part of the ship as the primary system, so
there was no chance he could sabotage their air supply.</p><p>     "Blake, are you all right?"  Glancing up, he saw Klyn
coming his way.  She carried a tray with three steaming cups
of kaf on it.</p><p>     "Yes...no...I will be," Blake said softly.  He took a
mug and inhaled its fragance.</p><p>     Klyn set the other cups next to the game board.
"Where's Deva?"</p><p>     "Getting Tarrant started on a project."  Blake leaned
forward.  "That boy is full of complications.  Then there's
this trip to Fullsen.  Do I have the right to risk you and
Deva, searching for information on our friends who may all be
dead?"</p><p>     "They are our friends too," Klyn pointed out.  "They
would do the same for us, if our positions were reversed.
And it will be you and Deva taking the risks.  I don't
appreciate the fact that the two of you will be voluntarily
entering a high-security Federation facility."</p><p>     "It's only medium-security," Blake said.  "And we have
uniforms and false identification."</p><p>     "You also have a very infamous face," she countered.</p><p>     "We'll be careful," Blake promised.  "You know it's our
best hope for quickly finding information on where they took
the others."</p><p>     He sipped at the kaf, considering their plans to tap
into the Fullsen records computer.  "If we can locate
Tarrant's file, perhaps we can learn about his memory block
while we're there as well."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The buzz of the wake alarm that he'd set roused Tarrant
before his body would have chosen to abandon sleep.  Bleary-eyed, he slid into his borrowed clothes.  Though it wasn't as
severe as when he had tumbled into bed the night before, he
felt feverish and dizzy.  It wasn't a promising way to start
the day.  Regardless, he was determined to finish with the
ventilator by late morning.</p>
<p>     Tarrant had barely resumed his work when the ship
trembled and lurched.  He immediately identified the cause of
the turbulence.  The spacecraft had entered a planet's
gravitational field.  They were landing.  He wasn't
surprised, when shortly after touchdown, a voice on the
ship's intercom system requested that he come to the flight
deck.</p><hr/>
<p>     Apprehensive, Tarrant took the chair indicated by Blake.
"What did you want?" he asked.</p>
<p>     "We've arrived on Fullsen," Blake answered.</p>
<p>     A wave of panic swept through Tarrant.  "Fullsen," he
echoed weakly.  Fullsen was one of the places he had been
taken for interrogation following Gauda Prime.</p>
<p>     "We're hoping to find information on the fate of our
missing comrades," Deva quickly explained.</p>
<p>     "I see," Tarrant said, though he didn't understand at
all.  Federation records were inevitably well-secured
files.  There was a time when he would have questioned and
challenged just exactly how they intended to get that
information, but not now.  He was reluctant to say or do
anything that might irritate them.</p>
<p>     Blake ran a hand over his face.  He looked worried and
tired.  "While Deva and I are away from the ship, I'm going
to lock you in your cabin."</p>
<p>     Tarrant's unease heightened and he clutched the armrests
on his chair to stop his hands from shaking.  "You're only
here to get information?" he asked, desperate to have that
reconfirmed.  Part of him feared that they were going to turn
him over to the Federation, no matter that both Blake and
Deva looked mildly friendly and Klyn no more icy than usual.</p>
<p>     "Yes," Deva said very gently as if he was aware of
Tarrant's anxiety.  "We don't want to confine you, but with
only Klyn on board..."</p>
<p>     "And not knowing what kind of tampering produced the
block," Klyn cut in.  "It would be foolish not to take every
precaution."</p>
<p>     Tarrant flicked his tongue around his dry mouth and
nodded.  He really had no choice but to acquiesce...and to
hope that they were telling him the truth.</p><hr/>
<p>     "Have you found anything?"  Blake looked at his watch as
he spoke.</p>
<p>     "Nothing," Deva said with exasperation.  "All of the
files must have been downloaded to storage cards."</p>
<p>     "There must be something we can do."  Blake quick paced
the small room.  "Where would the storage cards be kept?  Can
you find that information?"</p>
<p>     "I'll try."</p>
<p>     Blake watched over Deva's shoulder as a blueprint of the
Fullsen base appeared on the small monitor.  Using the coded
identifications from the blueprints, Deva called up the
designation for each room.  The base was large and the
process time consuming.  After several minutes, Blake resumed
his pacing.			</p>
<p>     "I've located the deactivated files," Deva finally
announced, "but it isn't good.  According to this, access to
the storage area requires a special clearance or
authorization from the base commander."</p>
<p>     "We'll bluff our way," Blake decided.  "I know these
space..."</p>
<p>     "No, we won't."  Deva's voice was adamant.  "We've done
all we can here."</p>
<p>     "We've done nothing!"</p>
<p>     "Except try our best," Deva insisted.  "Damn it, man,
what good will it do anyone to get ourselves caught?  We are
already stretching luck beyond reasonable limits."</p>
<p>     "Deva..."  Blake sighed and capitulated.  "You're
right."</p>
<p>     "Then let's get back to the ship and spare Klyn anymore
fretting."</p><hr/>
<p>     Blake and Deva chatted in low tones as they approached
the security check at the gate, carefully maintaining their
posture of two men who had every right to be on the
Federation base.  "There's no accounting for taste," Blake
said, continuing the conversation as he and Deva handed their
identicards to the guard stationed at the exit post.  He gave
the man no more attention than any space command officer
would to a lowly trooper.</p>
<p>     The sentry proceeded to slip one of the cards into the
verification slot.  While Blake waited for the routine
clearance, he glanced to his left and spotted an officer
walking briskly across the yard.  At the same moment, the
space major looked in his direction.  Their eyes met and
Blake's heart quickened its beat as he recognized the
acquiline features.  They'd met during his first
imprisonment, years ago.  Fortunately, though the man seemed
to realize that he knew him, he hadn't yet put a name to the
face.</p>
<p>     With carefully casual movements, Blake waved a friendly
hand the other man's way and smiled.  The major gave a
tentative wave back, his face still frowned over in thought.</p>
<p>     "Your card, sir."  Blake took it, noting that Deva
already had his.  They started out, walking quickly but not
so fast as to draw suspicion.</p>
<p>     Six steps outside the gate, Blake heard what he had been
dreading.  A loud voice called out, "That's Blake.  Roj
Blake, the terrorist.  Stop him!"</p>
<p>     Blake pulled out his gun and whirled around into a
crouch.  Deva mimicked his move as gunfire erupted from their
two adversaries.  A bolt of searing heat whistled close to
Blake's head as he took careful aim at the trooper.  The
charge found its target and the man crashed back into the
gate.  The major turned and began running for the nearest
building, no doubt for reinforcements.</p>
<p>     Deva was suddenly at Blake's side, yanking on his arm.
"Let's get out of here."</p>
<p>     The civilian area outside the base was a warehouse
district.  The buildings lining the empty streets were large
and plain.  It meant that there were no witnesses to note
their passing, but it also readily targeted them as the
fugitives.  They veered right at the first intersection, to
put buildings between themselves and the Federation post,
aware that pursuit would soon be hard on their heels.	</p>
<p>     "This way!"  Deva zagged again, gesturing Blake into a
narrow alley that led in the direction of the spaceport.</p>
<p>     Blake's legs were churning as fast as he could make them
when, two steps ahead, Deva slipped and fell hard.  The red-haired man was struggling to his knees by the time Blake had
crouched beside him.</p>
<p>     "Are you all right?" Blake asked.</p>
<p>     "I think so," Deva wheezed out.  He accepted Blake's
support as he went up on one foot.  But when he tried to put
weight on his left leg, a hoarse cry spilled from his lips.</p>
<p>     Blake quickly propped his shoulder under the smaller
man's arm and half dragged him toward a door.  "Let's get out
of sight, then we'll check you over."</p>
<p>     The door was locked and Blake had to fire a plasma bolt
at the latch to gain entrance.  After getting Deva inside, he
returned to the alley and dragged a large trash receptacle in
front of the scorched door, to hide evidence of their
break-in from passing eyes.</p>
<p>     Light from large windows set high in the walls allowed
Blake to study their surroundings.  Crates of varying sizes
crowded the cavernous space, forming a series of mountains
with narrow passageways in between.  The silence combined
with the absence of artificial lighting reassured Blake that
they were alone in the building.		</p>
<p>     Deva had pulled himself to a small alcove that was out
of sight of the door.  He was rubbing his left ankle.  "It's
not broken," he said.  "Damn, I should have been more
careful."</p>
<p>     "It wasn't your fault," Blake contended.  "There was a
patch of lubricating fluid on the pavement."  He brushed
Deva's hands aside and began his own examination of the
injured limb.  The tissue was already growing puffy.  "Will
you be able to walk on it?" he asked.</p>
<p>     "I'll have to," Deva gritted, getting to his feet.  But
the best he could do, even with Blake's support, was a
limping hobble.  "You're going to have to leave me," he
resolved.</p>
<p>     "No," Blake said in his firmest voice.  "They won't
realize you're injured.  They'll expect that we're heading
for the spaceport at all possible speed and direct their
search accordingly.  We're safe here."</p>
<p>     "Only temporarily," Deva rebutted.  "They won't easily
give up on Roj Blake.  They'll have patrols out day and
night.  And I'll not be able to move quickly enough to elude
them.  Go now, while you have a chance."</p>
<p>     "No," Blake repeated with unwavering resolve.  He
unhooked the communicator from his belt.  "I'm calling Klyn.
If she brings a painkiller and support bandage, you'll be
more mobile.  And having a woman with us will provide cover.
They'll be looking for two men."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tarrant was dozing fitfully when a rattling disturbed
him.  He blinked in momentary confusion until he connected
the sound with the unlatching of the lock on his door.
Klyn's face was grim as she entered, causing him to cringe
back into a corner of his bunk.</p>
<p>     She threw a jacket his way.  "Put that on.  We have to
leave the ship."</p>
<p>     "Wh—why?" Tarrant asked as he hastened to obey her.</p>
<p>     "Blake and Deva are in trouble," Klyn said briefly.</p>
<p>     Dark thoughts whirled through Tarrant's brain as he
fumbled his arms into the coat sleeves.  The others had been
caught and Klyn was going to trade him for them!  Rationally,
he knew it wasn't likely.  The Federation would want Roj
Blake over someone they had already broken and turned inside
out, unless Space Command wasn't finished punishing him for
deserting.  That prospect turned Tarrant's hands unsteady as
he fastened the closures.</p>
<p>     "I'll need shoes," he said.  "My boots...if you know
where they are."</p>
<p>     Klyn looked very annoyed at the delay.  She left the
cabin and was some time in returning, his boots in her hand.
"Are these yours?" she asked, more irritated than ever.</p>
<p>     "Yes."  Someone had cleaned and polished them.  Only
deep scratches from the dogs' claws and teeth remained from
his time on Loenstadt.</p>
<p>     While Tarrant finished dressing, Klyn stood over him and
lectured, "I didn't know whether to bring you with me or
leave you here.  I don't trust you either place.  If you make
one wrong move..."  Her hand patted the gun tucked under her
coat to complete the threat.</p>
<p>     Klyn backed up so that Tarrant had room to stand.  She
studied him for a moment then shook her head.  "Your face is
going to call attention to us."  She left again, returning
quickly with a brimmed dress cap in her hands.</p>
<p>     She fingered it for several seconds before handing it to
him.  "Keep it pulled low," she ordered brusquely.</p>
<p>     It was clouded over and windy on the outside.  Klyn kept
her arm looped through Tarrant's as she guided him through
the city streets.  He wasn't sure if that was part of some
disguise or because she feared that he'd try to get away.
She needn't have worried on that score.  Fullsen was probably
the last place in the galaxy that he wanted to be.		</p>
<p>     Tarrant tensed to a stop at the sight of his first
uniformed patrol.  "Don't do that, you fool," Klyn hissed
through a false smile on her face.  "You may as well walk up
and ask to be arrested, if you're going to behave with such
obvious guilt."</p>
<p>     "I won't do it again," Tarrant said, forcing his feet
into motion.</p>
<p>     The troopers jogged by at good speed, giving them only a
cursory glance.  But a short time later, they came across a
second squad, who were stopping and questioning civilians at
random.  Pulling Tarrant even closer, Klyn answered the
junior officer's questions.  No, they hadn't seen men fitting
the descriptions provided.</p>
<p>     The descriptions matched Deva and Blake, informing
Tarrant that the two men were still free but being hunted.</p>
<p>     "It won't be easy for Blake and Deva to get back to the
ship," Tarrant said when they were once again alone.</p>
<p>     "Don't you think I know that."  Klyn tapped at the large
bag slung over her left shoulder.  "But I've brought some
things that should help.  As long as they don't order a
curfew, we have a fighting chance."</p>
<p>     "A curfew would be standard.  They should have
established one immediately, if they knew it was Blake.  It's
a puzzle."</p>
<p>     "Not really.  The Federation are here on sufferance.
They needed a base in this area, but it was too far from
their territory to attempt a hostile takeover.  They arranged
a treaty with the governor.  Space Command has complete
autonomy on their property but operate under very specific
restrictions on the rest of the planet."</p>
<p>     "How do you know all this?"</p>
<p>     "Blake and Deva researched Fullsen as soon they found
out that our people had been taken here."  Klyn pointed
ahead.  "This is where it is going to get tricky.  We're
getting near the base.  If we're questioned again, follow my
lead.  And don't try anything.  If there's trouble, you'll be
the first to die."</p>
<p>     The number of people on the streets thinned, because of the location, encroaching nightfall, and threatening weather.  The wind gusted more fiercely, with a dampness that threatened precipitation before long. Tarrant welcomed its cool caresses as he trudged along at Klyn's side.</p>
<p>     Klyn checked the locator in her palm more frequently,
directing Tarrant left then right until they were in an
area that was devoid of people and traffic.	</p>
<p>     After entering an alley that was barely wide enough to
accomm odate one-way traffic, Klyn pulled Tarrant to an abrupt
halt.  "Wait.  I hear something."  There was a soft clicking
as three troopers wearing combat helmets turned in from a
cross street some fifteen meters in front of them.</p>
<p>     Klyn hastily pushed Tarrant into the nearest wall.
Yanking his head down, she pressed her lips to his.  His
reactions were dull.  It took him a long minute to realize
her purpose and to circle his arms gingerly around her.  The
hard, cold shape of her gun against his ribs made it hard to
simulate passionate abandon, but he did his best.	</p>
<p>     "What are you doing here?" an authoritative voice
demanded.</p>
<p>     Klyn swiveled her head about to face the advancing men
while keeping a tight hold on Tarrant.  "What does it look
like we're doing?" she retorted.  "You blind or something?"</p>
<p>     "Find somewhere else to do it.  There are escaped
prisoners on the loose."</p>
<p>     "And of course they'd be around here," Klyn countered,
"within spitting distance of your headquarters."</p>
<p>     "If something happens to you, don't complain that we
didn't warn you."</p>
<p>     Klyn smiled and rubbed her body suggestively against
Tarrant's.  "I won't have any complaints about what's going
to happen to me, Major."</p>
<p>     Tarrant appreciated the chance to rest.  He let the wall
support most of his weight while Klyn ably managed the
Federation trio.  She was quite good at it, except that she'd
mistaken the section leader for an officer.  He waited until
the soldiers' rhythmic footsteps faded into silence to tell
her.</p>
<p>     "I knew his rank," she immediately snapped back.  "I did
that deliberately to puff his ego and distract him.  Besides,
how many innocent civilians would be able to identify
Federation rank insignias?"</p>
<p>     "Not many," Tarrant admitted.  "I'm sorry.  I should
have realized that you knew what you were doing."</p>
<p>     "I know enough that I don't need advice from a stripling
like you."</p>
<p>     "I'm sorry," he repeated wearily, closing his eyes and
resting his head back.</p>
<p>     There was a long pause before she said anything else,
and then Klyn surprised him by sounding more gentle than she
normally did when addressing him.  "Are you ready to go?
We're almost there."</p>
<p>     Tarrant nodded and pushed off the wall.  He suspected
that he was at least as anxious to complete their mission as
she was.  The secure environment of the ship seemed very far
away.</p><hr/>
<p>     "Blake.  Deva."</p>
<p>     Blake heard the words at the same time a soft creaking
signaled that the door was opening.  "Klyn," he called back,
"over here."   Two shadows slipped inside, momentarily
visible in the faint light filtering in from the street, then
the room returned to murky gray.</p>
<p>     Klyn flicked on a handtorch.  "You two managed to stir
up a fine mess of trouble," she said.</p>
<p>     Blake knew that the stern words masked a combination of
worry and relief and he gave her a quick hug.  "What's it
like out there?"</p>
<p>     "Patrols, but nothing near as threatening as it would be
on a Federation world."  Klyn pulled free and crouched beside
Deva.  "Well, let's see the damage."</p>
<p>     Blake eased to where Tarrant had settled on a large
crate in the shadows.  "I didn't expect to see you."	</p>
<p>     "Klyn told me to come," the young man answered, his
voice so low that Blake had to strain to hear him.</p>
<p>     "Four will be more cover than three," Klyn said from
where she fussed with Deva's ankle.  Shrugging, she added, "I
didn't know what else to do with him."</p>
<p>     "Actually," Blake reasoned, "he could prove useful.
He can help Deva during the walk back to the ship.  That way
I can travel alone, away from the rest of you."</p>
<p>     "I don't like that plan," Deva argued.  "You are the one
who needs companions to act as a cloaking device."</p>
<p>     Blake shook his head.  "I'm the one they've identified.
I'm not going to put anyone else at risk."</p>
<p>     Deva tugged at the cowlick that perpetually drooped onto
his forehead.  "They saw me too, and my red hair isn't easy
to overlook."</p>
<p>     "But you don't even have a record.  They can't arrest
you if you aren't with me."</p>
<p>     "Stop that, both of you," Klyn broke in.  "We are going
back to the ship as a group.  I'm not letting either of you
out of my sight again."</p>
<p>     She reached into her carryall and pulled out two parkas.
"Besides, I didn't come unprepared.  Pull the hoods over your
heads.  We are going to stay together."</p>
<p>     "Klyn..."</p>
<p>     She held up her hand, cutting him off.  "We need you
with us.  Deva is injured, and we can't trust this one," she
directed her light toward Tarrant, "to help."</p>
<p>     Blake followed the path of the beam as it swept onto
Tarrant.  The young man flinched back, raising his arms to
shield his eyes from the brightness, but not before Blake got
a good look at his face.  It glowed pale and damp.
Belatedly, Blake realized that he couldn't count on Tarrant
to support Deva.</p>
<p>     Caught in an impossible conundrum, Blake combed his
fingers through his curls.  "We'll try to stay together," he
compromised.  "But if that becomes dangerous, we separate."</p>
<p>     "Agreed," Klyn said.  She turned to Deva.  "Ready to try
out the leg?"</p>
<p>     "As I'll ever be."  After Blake and Klyn pulled him
erect, Deva took a few practice steps.  Klyn had numbed his
leg with local painkillers, leaving him a bit unsteady but
mobile.</p>
<p>     They traveled stealthily until they reached the busy
district surrounding the spaceport.  Despite the weather and
the disruption of the Federation patrols, people were
bustling about en route to the various entertainment spots
that inevitably sprang up around a spaceport area.</p>
<p>     Though partially camoflauged by the groups of
merrymakers, Blake was all too aware of the Federation
troopers who stood like sentinals at regular intervals, eyes
scanning each passerby.</p>
<p>     "What's that ahead?" Deva asked, looking to where
civilian clothes were visible in a clumping of Federation
black.</p>
<p>     "They were stopping people at random earlier," Klyn
reported.</p>
<p>     "I don't know that we'll pass a close...," Blake paused.
Ahead, a Federation officer was running a retinal scan on a
tall, wavy-haired man.  "I know we won't pass a close
inspection," he corrected.</p>
<p>     "Maybe they won't stop us," Deva offered hopefully.</p>
<p>     "It's time to split up," Blake decided.  "No doubt the
retinal pattern that they are trying to match is mine."  He
released Deva's arm and quickened his pace, attempting to put
distance between himself and the others.</p>
<p>     The patrol dismissed the Fullsen natives and were
starting to turn their way when Blake heard Klyn's voice
behind him.  "Tarrant!"  Glancing over his shoulder, Blake
saw the tall pilot jerk from her grasp.  Within seconds, he
was pushing his way through the slow-moving crowd behind
them.</p>
<p>     "Damn," Blake exclaimed, pulling to a stop.  "I thought
we could trust him.  Why would he do that?"</p>
<p>     Klyn edged next to him.  "Maybe it's the programming,"
she said hesitantly.</p>
<p>     "Whatever, it worked to our advantage."  Deva pointed to
where the squad of troopers had changed direction.  They were
charging after the suspicious figure of the running Tarrant.</p>
<p>     "He's liable to turn us in," Blake worried.  "Hurry.  We
better get off planet before they've identified our ship."</p>
<p>     "In a second."  Klyn ran back a few steps and scooped
something from the sidewalk.  It was the hat that Tarrant had
been wearing.  Apparently, it had fallen as he darted away.
"It was Shan's," she said in a choked voice.  "I'm glad I
didn't lose it."</p><hr/>
<p>     It was with extreme relief that Blake entered their
ship.  "I didn't know that we'd see it again," he admitted.</p>
<p>     Deva patted the bulkhead almost lovingly.  "You weren't
the only one.  I think the credit for our safe return belongs
to Klyn."</p>
<p>     "Definitely," Blake seconded.  He smiled down at the
small woman.  "That was brilliant, bringing along the laser
cutter so that we could get in through the fence."</p>
<p>     "It was common sense," she snorted.  "I knew they'd have
a security check at the gates."</p>
<p>     "Common sense tells me that we better get out of here,"
Deva said.  "Blake, help me to the flight deck so that I can
prepare the ship for take off."  The long walk had aggravated
his injury to the point where his leg would no longer support
his weight.</p>
<p>     "What about Tarrant?" Klyn asked, surprising Blake.</p>
<p>     "He's as much a threat as the Federation right now,"
he answered reluctantly.  "For all we know, something
triggered his programming."</p>
<p>     "He might have run away because he was afraid," Deva
suggested.  "He can't have good memories of his imprisonment
and that patrol had started our way.  The thought of being
recaptured might have frightened him enough to flee."
Blake considered that and nodded, recalling Tarrant's
skittish behavior since they'd brought him on board.  He was
no longer the brash young man that Blake had encountered on
Gauda Prime.</p>
<p>     "He had a fever," Klyn added from where she was securing
the hatch.  "I noticed it when we had to fake being lovers.
He could have taken off in a panic or simply been mixed up."
She threw the final bolt, then turned to Blake and Deva.  "I
don't like abandoning him if he isn't guilty of anything more
than panic or delirious confusion."</p>
<p>     "I don't like leaving him either," Blake said, "but we
haven't much choice.  Even if he isn't out to deliberately
betray us, he knows too much,  If he falls into Federation
hands..."  He left the statement unfinished and spread his
hands wide with helplessness.  "We have no way of finding him
or of knowing if he'll try to come back here.  It isn't safe
to loiter, with so little promise that he'll ever turn up."</p>
<p>     Blake put a supporting arm about Deva's shoulders,
sighing, "We won't have to worry about him anymore.  This
might have worked out for the best."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tarrant knew that he couldn't hope to outrun his
pursuers for long.  The burst of adrenaline that had jolted
him into motion was burning a jagged path through his very
depleted body.  If he didn't slow down soon, he was likely to
collapse completely.</p>
<p>    The pounding feet drew closer.  Tarrant was almost sorry
that he'd brushed off his cap and dashed away, knowing that
his height, curls, and behavior would make him a target for
the troopers.  He had realized immediately that only by
distracting the patrol from Blake would any of them be safe,
but that didn't make him any less afraid.	</p>
<p>     Using the retinal scanner, they would easily have
identified the rebel leader, and arrested his three
companions along with him.  They wouldn't be looking for Del
Tarrant.  He was dead.</p>
<p>     Hands grabbed him, spun him in a half turn, and slammed
him into a wall, leaving him giddy and breathless.  A
blinding light was directed at his face and Tarrant squeezed
his eyes shut.</p>
<p>     Through a ringing in his ears, Tarrant heard their
conversation.  "He's too young to be Blake."</p>
<p>     "Check the retinal pattern anyway."</p>
<p>     "Open your eyes."  Tarrant was slow to react and a fist
slammed into his stomach, jarring spots that had never
recovered from earlier beatings.  He bit the inside of his
lip to keep from crying out.  "Open your eyes."</p>
<p>     "Not so rough," another voice advised.  "He'll file a
complaint."  A finger jabbed at Tarrant's shoulder.  "Why
were you running from us?"</p>
<p>     Hesitantly, Tarrant opened his eyes, trying to control
his fear.  They weren't searching for him, he reminded
himself.</p>
<p>     "He looks familiar," one of the four men spoke up,
sending new shock waves of alarm pulsing through Tarrant.  It
wasn't that long ago that he had been on Fullsen.  Any number
of Federation personnel might remember him.</p>
<p>     "It's the hair," the calm voice reasoned.  He appeared
to be in charge.  "You fit the description of an escaped
prisoner," he explained, speaking to Tarrant.  "We'll need to
check your retinal pattern."</p>
<p>     "All right," Tarrant managed to reply.  He forced his
eyes to stay open for the brief period necessary, shutting
them gratefully when they finished.  Looking at the hostile
assortment of faces on top of black uniforms was as painful
as the light.</p>
<p>     "No match."</p>
<p>     "That still doesn't tell us why he took off like he had
something to hide."</p>
<p>     "Hell, Charvy, he was probably just scared.  Look at
him, shaking like an old lady with the devil descending on
her."</p>
<p>     "His face is full of bruises," another man chimed in.
"He probably gets beat up regularly, sweet young thing that
he is."  A hand smoothed across Tarrant's groin.  "He might
be one of those pleasure boys.  Are you, dearie?"</p>
<p>     Someone chuckled briefly then concluded, "At any rate,
he's hardly the rebel terrorist type.  We better get back in
position before the real Blake slips by."</p>
<p>     "I suppose."  Tarrant could sense them moving away.
"Though I wouldn't mind knowing where he works, if he is in
that business."</p>
<p>     "And what about Mari?  What would you tell her?"</p>
<p>     The voices faded into gibberish, then disappeared
completely.</p>
<p>     Tarrant waited a long time before opening his eyes.
When he did, the side street he was on was empty.  It was
over, with no more damage than the nervous janglings that
were similar in pattern to waking from a bad dream.</p>
<p>     Except that he was on Fullsen and he still had to get
back to Blake's ship.</p>
<p>     Using a circuitous route, Tarrant slowly made his way
toward the spaceport.  His brain felt like it was wrapped in
an impenetrable fog, his body ached, and dancing sparkles of
light were obscuring his vision.  He took a wrong turn and
walked several blocks before he realized that he'd drifted
away from the bustling port area.  Cursing himself for
wasting precious time and energy, he retraced his path and
tried again, forcefully concentrating on each individual step
and where it was taking him.</p>
<p>     By the time he reached the main gate, he was more
fatigued than frightened.  A Federation space captain with a
thankfully anonymous face questioned him briefly in the
presence of the civilian authories, then waved him through.</p>
<p>     Tarrant staggered in the direction of their docking
berth.  It seemed to take half of forever to reach the right
area, but eventually he spotted the huge passenger liner that
had dwarfed Blake's small craft.  However, the landing pad
next to it was empty.</p>
<p>     At first, Tarrant thought he had made another mistake.
He wasn't functioning that efficiently.  This was probably
the wrong section altogether.  But as he drew closer to the
yawning emptiness, he saw evidence that a ship had recently
occupied the space.  There was only a thin coating of snow in
the area, compared to several inches everywhere else.</p>
<p>     Snow?  Surely it was too warm to be snowing?  Tarrant
looked up, blinking against the flakes falling into his eyes,
and wondered how he could have failed to notice that it had
begun to snow.  He brushed an incredulous hand across his wet
hair then crumpled slowly to the ground.</p><hr/>
<p>     Blake almost overlooked the dark blotch against the
snow.  Tarrant's tall body was folded over, with his head
bent low in his palms.</p>
<p>     "Tarrant," he called, not wanting to startle the young
man.</p>
<p>     It was a moment before the boy reacted, then he
straightened the upper half of his body and stared Blake's
way.  His eyes were bright, uncomprehending pinpoints in the
light reflected off the snow.</p>
<p>     "You must be freezing.  How long have you been here?"</p>
<p>     Tarrant didn't answer.  But when Blake stopped beside
him, he reached out a hand and touched the bulkier man's
trousers.  Finally, he spoke.  "Blake...I thought you left
me."</p>
<p>     Blake didn't tell him how close that was to the truth.
Prudence dictated that they should have departed Fullsen at
all possible speed, but some combination of sentiment and
guilt had prevented them.  They'd agreed to give Tarrant two
hours to return.  That time limit had almost expired.	</p>
<p>     "We moved the ship to a more secluded location," Blake
explained.  "I've been in that building," he nodded to a
storage shack, "waiting for you to return.  I'd about given
up."  Blake pulled Tarrant to his feet while he talked.  He
wanted to ask him why he had run away, but the boy didn't
look in any condition to answer questions.  He barely looked
capable of walking to the ship.</p>
<p>     That observation proved accurate.  Blake was almost
completely supporting his young companion by the time they
stumbled into the airlock.  Klyn was waiting there for them.</p>
<p>     "You're soaked," she said, taking hold of Tarrant's
sleeve.  "We better get you some dry clothes."</p>
<p>     "I think he should be in medical," Blake said.</p>
<p>     "You're right," she readily agreed.  "I'll meet you
there after I tell Deva to arrange launch clearance."</p>
<p>     "Is he still on the flight deck?"</p>
<p>     "Of course.  He doesn't trust either of us to manage the
take off.  He can be as stubborn as you."  She sighed softly.
"At least he's promised to stay off the leg."</p><hr/>
<p>     Blake eased Tarrant onto the med couch and began to
unfasten his jacket.  "Don't hurt me," the pilot murmured.</p>
<p>     "You're safe on our ship," Blake assured him.  "No one
here will hurt you."</p>
<p>     Tarrant shivered then looked around.  "On your ship," he
repeated.  "I forgot.  I thought I was back on Fullsen.  What
about the others?"</p>
<p>     "Deva's fine.  You saw Klyn."</p>
<p>     "And everyone else?"</p>
<p>     "We're all fine," Blake said, giving the young man a
worried look.  "You're the one needs looking after.  We'll
start by getting you into some dry clothes.  Lift up a bit so
I can get this jacket off."</p>
<p>     Blake had managed to remove the coat and was working on
the buttons of Tarrant's shirt when Klyn arrived.  "Let me do
that," she said, nudging him aside.  "You men are all
thumbs."</p>
<p>     "No," Tarrant protested and tried to push her hands
away.  "Leave me alone."</p>
<p>     Klyn ignored his feeble efforts saying, "Stop fussing,
you don't have anything that I haven't seen before."</p>
<p>     "I'm not sure how coherent he is," Blake noted, hovering
close in case Tarrant turned violent.</p>
<p>     "Have you checked his..." Klyn's words cut off to a
gasp.  She was staring at the wicked bruises and unhealed
wounds all over Tarrant's chest.  Gesturing to Blake to help,
she grimly worked the shirt free of Tarrant's arms then
stripped off the rest of his sodden clothes.</p>
<p>     "I didn't realize," she whispered, seeing the full
extent of Tarrant's injuries for the first time.  "We've
rescued other prisoners.  It was never like this.  What
happened to him?"</p>
<p>     Blake shrugged.  "He was a deserter.  Maybe that's what
earned him such brutal treatment."  Despite the jostlings,
Tarrant had fallen asleep.  Blake spread a blanket over him,
more to shield Klyn than to provide warmth.  "Let me finish
here."</p>
<p>     "No.  Deva will need your help to get to his cabin once
we're in space.  I can manage."</p><hr/>
<p>     An hour later, with Fullsen well behind them and no sign
of Klyn, Blake returned to the infirmary.  She was still
there, perched on a high stool beside Tarrant's bed, with the
lights dimmed to a soothing glow.  Behind her, the monitors
were clicking away with reassuringly steady beats.</p>
<p>     "How is he?"</p>
<p>     She smiled faintly, though her eyes glistened with
unshed tears.  "Considering what I've seen him manage to
date, I imagine he'll be on his feet and causing trouble
before we're ready to deal with it."</p>
<p>     "Good."  Blake put a hand on her shoulder.  "And how are
you?"	</p>
<p>     Klyn shook her head.  "He should never have been out of
bed.  I had him cleaning, running all over that godforsaken
planet.  I let my personal feelings blind me to his
condition."</p>
<p>     "Tarrant wanted to keep busy," Blake reminded her.  "And
he was very good at concealing any weakness.  I tended to
forget that he was ill myself."</p>
<p>     She wasn't to be consoled.  "He needed rest and medical
attention."  Klyn paused briefly, her hands clasped in her
lap and her eyes distant.   "He's someone's child.  I...I
should have taken care of him despite his part in what
happened to..."  Her voice broke and she turned into Blake's
waiting arms before finishing, "To my Shan."</p><hr/>
<p>     "You better eat that," Deva said, pointing to Tarrant's
soup.  "Klyn made it especially for you."</p>
<p>     "She did?"</p>
<p>     Since Fullsen, Tarrant had noticed a change in Klyn.
The tightness around her eyes had softened.  And while she
gave no indication of liking him, she appeared to hate him
less.  But making soup for him didn't fit even her reformed
image.</p>
<p>     "You're lucky," Deva continued.  "She didn't have the
ingredients for her infamous vitabroth.  That's what she made
me drink when I had the flu."</p>
<p>     "I'm not ill," Tarrant said.</p>
<p>     "Don't be tedious," Deva said dryly.  "I can sense one
of your 'let me out of bed' persuasions about to begin.
Spare us both.  The medical computers will decide when you're
well enough to be on your feet," he paused in his tidying to
smile smugly at Tarrant, "this time."</p>
<p>     "I appreciate your concern but I'd rather..."  Tarrant
cut off with a sigh.  Deva's eyes were uncompromising.</p>
<p>     Blake chose that moment to stroll in, followed closely
by Klyn.  "So this is where you've been, Deva.  I finally
tracked down Grant."</p>
<p>     "Oh?"  Deva stopped working and paid close attention
to his shipmate.</p>
<p>     "Sorry.  Nothing definite," Blake said quickly,
squelching the hope in Deva's eyes.  "But he did have some
promising ideas about which prison planets we should try
first."</p>
<p>     "We've set course for..." Klyn started to say but was
halted by Blake, who put his hand to her lips.</p>
<p>     "Best not to mention exactly where," he cautioned.  He
looked apologetically at Tarrant.  "I trust you," he
explained, "but we can't forget the possibility of
conditioning."</p>
<p>     "I wouldn't want you to," Tarrant said without
resentment.  He understood their concern.  He also felt their
frustration.  Locating the right planet, then trying to find
specific individuals on a prison world was a daunting task.
"I'm sorry you weren't able to learn anything about your
friends while on Fullsen."</p>
<p>     Blake settled onto a corner of Tarrant's bed.  "It was a
long shot at best," he admitted.  He forced a small smile to
his face.  "But I've not given up."</p>
<p>     "None of us have," Klyn affirmed.  She smiled
encouragement at her two friends.  "Well, I should get back
to the flight deck."</p>
<p>     "Wait, please," Tarrant requested.  "While you're all
here, I'd like to say something."  He paused until they'd
turned his way.  "I've been wanting to thank you.  First, for
Loenstadt, then for waiting for me on Fullsen.  I'd be dead
or back in Federation hands, if it weren't for you.  Thank
you."</p>
<p>     "We'd have done the same for anyone in similar
circumstances," Klyn responded briskly.  Her eyes dropped to
his tray.  "Finish your lunch," she ordered with equal
brusqueness before turning to the door.</p>
<p>     "I will," Tarrant said, feeling warmed despite her
seeming coldness.  Remembering what Deva had told him, he
called after her retreating figure,  "It's very good."</p>
<p>     Blake snickered softly.  "Deva, maybe we should
run another medscan on this young man.  He appears to be
delirious again.  He likes Klyn's cooking."</p>
<p>     "Klyn has many talents," Deva said, his eyes twinkling,
"but cooking isn't one of them."</p>
<p>     Tarrant blushed under their teasings.  "It's not that
bad," he protested.</p>
<p>    "Then I'll expect to find an empty bowl when I return,"
Blake said.  He took Deva's arm.  "You offered a return
pyramids match.  What about now?"</p>
<p>     Later, Tarrant lay snuggled in his blanket, exhausted
but unable to sleep.  He reflected on his new companions'
many kindnesses.  They had been patient and gentle, aware of
how fidgety the medical equipment made him.  Someone was
always coaxing him to eat or asking how he felt.  They let
him stay despite the threat of Federation programming.  It
was almost like being with friends again.  He hoped they
wouldn't come to harm because of him, like so many others had
in the past.  That possibility filled him with anxiety.  He
couldn't let anything happen to them — not if there was
anything he could do to prevent it.  Filled with sudden
resolve, he threw back the blanket and began to get dressed.
He would cast light into the shadow, even if it killed him.</p><hr/>
<p>     Blake looked up as someone came onto the flight deck.
He frowned when he saw who it was.		</p>
<p>     "Tarrant, you know you're not supposed to be here.  And
you should be sleeping," he scolded.  The young man was
healing remarkably well, but still wasn't very strong.  He
needed his rest.</p>
<p>     "I want you to use the psychscanner on me," Tarrant
said.  "Force the block."</p>
<p>     Blake stared, astonished.  For a moment, he felt one of
his problems was solved.  Tarrant was volunteering.  There
was no need to force him against his will.  But no, it wasn't
a real solution.  The fact remained that Tarrant might not
survive the psychscan.  "Tarrant, no.  You can't risk that,"
Blake said firmly.</p>
<p>     "I have to know," the young man insisted.  He took a
long shuddering breath.  "Maybe...maybe, it wasn't my fault.
Please, Blake!  I have to know!"</p>
<p>     Tarrant's desperation reminded Blake forcibly of the way
he himself had felt when his conditioning had begun to fail.
If he hadn't remembered, perhaps he'd still be living the
docile, privileged life of an Earth Alpha.  But he didn't
regret it, not for a moment.  His memories were himself, for
better or worse, and he had a right to them.  As Tarrant had
a right to his, no matter the risk.</p>
<p>     "All right," Blake agreed reluctantly.  "I'll get Klyn
and Deva."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tarrant knew he wasn't going to make it this time.</p>
<p>     He bit his lip, concentrating on keeping the small flyer
in the air.  His chest and stomach were a mass of fiery pain,
and his vision was beginning to blur.  Dayna and Vila, seated
behind him, were casting worried looks in his direction.</p>
<p>     There had been so many unlikely survivals, so many
miraculous last minute escapes.  At first, Tarrant had
thought GP would be another one.  Blake's troops were more
numerous and more competent than anyone had known, and they
had taken care of the Federation team sent in to capture the
base.  In the ensuing confusion, no one had noticed five
corpses who had only been stunned, not killed.  They had
managed to make off with two flyers, and for awhile Tarrant
had hoped they could pull it off again.  But not this time.
Not for Tarrant, and not for his companions, if he continued
to burden them.</p>
<p>     Spotting a steep, secluded valley, Tarrant angled the
flyer down.  He landed it on a grassy ledge, and Avon soon
landed the other flyer beside him.</p>
<p>     Tarrant hauled himself out of the cramped vehicle,
careful to hide his weakness.</p>
<p>     "Tarrant, are you all right?" Dayna asked, as Avon and
Soolin climbed out of their flyer.</p>
<p>     "Fine," he lied.</p>
<p>     Avon scanned the sky warily as he approached, hand
resting on the butt of the retrieved clipgun on his belt.  He
looked exhausted.  "We will have to abandon the flyers before
too long," he said.  "There isn't much fuel left.  Just as
well.  They can be traced all too easily."</p>
<p>     "What are we going to do then?" Vila asked.</p>
<p>     "We'll have to proceed on foot.  There's a spaceport a
few days' walk in that direction," Avon said, pointing.
"Perhaps we can get passage off this accursed rock."</p>
<p>     "Any spaceport we find around here will be run by
smugglers," Tarrant pointed out.</p>
<p>     "We will have a better chance dealing with smugglers
than with respectable men," Avon answered.</p>
<p>     "True," Soolin admitted.  "But it will be expensive."</p>
<p>     "Orac can arrange something," Avon reasoned.  "We'll fly
on a few more miles, then ditch the flyers.  Let's go."</p>
<p>     Now, Tarrant told himself.  It has to be now.  "Avon..."
he said, less steadily than he would have liked.</p>
<p>     Avon frowned and came up to him, putting an arm around
Tarrant to support him.  Tarrant allowed himself to lean
against Avon for a moment, gathering strength.  Then, swiftly
as he could manage, he grabbed the gun from Avon's belt,
turning it on his crewmates.</p>
<p>     The look in Avon's eyes was as cutting as the pain
stabbing Tarrant's chest.  That anguished look he had seen
before, in a lonely cellar on Earth, and mere hours ago, in
the recently-fled tracking gallery.</p>
<p>     Dayna's eyes held only puzzlement.  "Tarrant, what are
you doing?" she said.</p>
<p>     "Haven't you figured it out yet?" Tarrant replied.  "I'm
taking you in."</p>
<p>     "In where?" Vila asked, as baffled as Dayna.</p>
<p>     "To the Federation," Tarrant said coolly.  "My
assignment was to find out what I could of Orac and the
teleport.  I fear I have discovered all there is to know.
Time to end the game.  Throw down your weapons."</p>
<p>     "Tarrant!" Dayna cried, stunned.</p>
<p>     Tarrant watched Soolin out of the corner of his eye.
She had a gun on her belt, and her speed on the draw was
legendary.  He fully expected a shot through his heart at any
moment.</p>
<p>     But the attack came from the opposite quarter.  Avon's
fist came crashing into Tarrant's jaw, flinging him to the
ground.  The gun was twisted from his numb fingers.</p>
<p>     Wracked by agony, Tarrant tried to focus his blurred
vision.  Avon was standing above him.  It struck Tarrant
suddenly how similar his death was to his brother's.  The
searing pain, the hard, cold ground, the gun slowly being
aimed...</p>
<p>     Darkness swallowed him, and he welcomed it.</p><hr/>
<p>     Tarrant awoke, astonished to find himself alive.  He was
lying on damp grass, shivering and staring up at a rapidly
darkening sky.  He rolled over, each movement bringing fresh
pain.</p>
<p>     There was an empty flyer nearby, where he had landed it.
No sign of either his crewmates or the other flyer.  Good — they had gone.  Tarrant slowly pulled himself to his feet.
There was yet more he could do to aid his companions' escape.
He climbed into the flyer.  Trembling with pain and cold, he
rested for a moment, then took off, aiming the tiny craft in
the direction opposite the one Avon had indicated.	</p>
<p>     He wasn't able to remain conscious, even for the short
flight the low fuel allowed.  Without realizing how he got
there, he found himself in a small clearing, surrounded by
towering trees.  A red light flashed on the instrument panel,
informing him of the empty tanks.  The computer must have
taken over, landing the craft automatically as the fuel ran
out.				</p>
<p>     He wasn't thinking clearly.  He should have disengaged
the flight computer.  That way, he would have had a quick,
clean death as the flyer crashed.  Things would be messier,
now.</p>
<p>     Staggering out of the flyer, Tarrant moved around behind
it.  He managed to pry the engine housing off.  Where was the
coolant reservoir?  There — with a quick motion, Tarrant
jerked the hose free of the valve.  Thick, greenish fluid
began gushing from the broken end.  He put it to his mouth
and swallowed.</p><hr/>
<p>     When he regained consciousness, he knew immediately that
he was on a ship.  A Federation ship, judging from the fact
that he was implacably strapped to the bed he lay in.</p>
<p>     He groaned aloud in dismay.  The coolant must not have
worked fast enough.  They'd tracked him down before he was
safely dead.			</p>
<p>     Why didn't you kill me, Avon? he wondered.  Despair was
a bitter taste filling his mouth, like the dregs of the
coolant.  Had cold-hearted Avon suffered some mis-timed spasm
of sentiment?  Or had Dayna intervened in his behalf?  If so,
she had done him no favor.  Left to the mercy of Federation
interrogators — it was a fate far worse than death...	</p>
<p>     Death.  Tarrant realized he had to tell them that his
friends were dead.  He tried to think of a plausible story,
then remembered what he'd been taught at the FSA.  The
simpler the story, the easier it would be to maintain under
duress.  He'd just tell them that his companions were dead,
he didn't know how.  The door slid suddenly open.  Tarrant
squeezed his eyes shut, and concentrated on convincing
himself that his friends were dead.  They needed three days
at the least, four if he could manage it.  Time to get off
Gauda Prime.</p><hr/>
<p>     Tarrant opened his eyes, barely noticing the tears
flowing down his cheeks.  "They're alive," he gasped trying
to rise off the bed.  Klyn held him down, reminding him that
he was still attached to the psychscanner.  "They lied to me.
I didn't kill them.  They're alive!"</p>
<p>     "What?" Deva asked.</p>
<p>     "Avon, Vila, Dayna, and Soolin," Tarrant said.  "I
didn't kill them.  The interrogators let me think I had, out
of spite."</p>
<p>     "But where are they?" Blake asked, thoughtful.</p>
<p>     Tarrant looked at Blake, considering.  "I can contact
them," he said.</p>
<p>     "How?" Blake queried.</p>
<p>     "Orac has a special frequency..."</p>
<p>     "I've tried that," Blake objected.  "There's no
response."</p>
<p>     "The frequency you know has been sealed off," Tarrant
said.  "Servalan got ahold of it somehow.  She used it to...
manipulate Avon.  We had to change it."</p>
<p>     Blake's face darkened.  "Jenna," he said softly but very
angrily.  "She was a Federation prisoner for a short time
after the War.  The bitch must have gotten it from Jenna."</p>
<p>     Tarrant frowned, remembering Terminal.  "They may be
suspicious of any message coming via Orac.  Especially from
me."	</p>
<p>     "What do you mean?" Klyn asked.</p>
<p>     Tarrant explained the circumstances of their last
parting.  "So they think I betrayed them."  He looked at
Blake.  "Maybe you'd better be the one to contact them."</p>
<p>     Blake shook his head.  "No.  Avon knows you didn't
betray him."  He smile ruefully.  "He didn't shoot you."</p><hr/>
<p>     After three days of broadcasting, there was a reply.
Tarrant was alone on the flight deck when it came, taking
late watch — the first time he'd been allowed to take a
watch at all.  He was reveling in the trust this implied,
when the familiar symbols began scrolling across the comm
screen.  Tarrant raced over to key in all the proper
passwords, then Avon's voice came over the circuit.  "Who are
you and what do you want?" it asked bluntly.</p>
<p>     "Glad to find you as courteous as ever, Avon," Tarrant
said.</p>
<p>     There was a long silence.</p>
<p>     "Avon?  It's Tarrant."  Despite Blake's reassurances,
Tarrant more than half expected Avon to cut the connection.</p>
<p>     But he didn't.  "Tarrant is dead," he said.</p>
<p>     "No, I'm not."  Tarrant hesitated.  Perhaps it was best
not to mention Blake just yet.  "I was rescued from
Loenstadt.  Avon, let me explain—"</p>
<p>     "No.  Half the galaxy might be listening in.  We'll meet
in person.  I'll send you the time and coordinates — usual
code."  The circuit went dead then, but Tarrant found his
mood was buoyant.  At least Avon had agreed to meet him.
Of course, the other man might be luring him into a trap. but
even that possibility didn't dampen Tarrant's spirits.</p><hr/>
<p>     "I'll go," Tarrant volunteered.</p>
<p>     Blake eyed him sharply.</p>
<p>     "I won't betray you," Tarrant insisted.  "Please.  Trust
me."</p>
<p>     Blake, Deva, and Klyn exchanged glances.</p>
<p>     "He gave us his word," Blake said.</p>
<p>     "But that was when he thought all his friends were
dead," Klyn objected.</p>
<p>     "Let him go," Deva said.  "Avon will be expecting him."
They all knew what he really meant was Tarrant is expendable.</p>
<p>     Blake hesitated, torn.  His instinct was to trust this
young man — despite the fact that his first loyalty was
doubtless to his former crewmates.  But Klyn and Deva were
right.  Avon was most likely to accept Tarrant — and Tarrant
was the most expendable.</p>
<p>     "Very well," Blake sighed.  "Tarrant will go."	</p>
<p>     Tarrant turned, ready to leave, but Blake stopped him.
"Wait, boy.  Take this."  He took off his vest, draping it
around Tarrant.  "Armor.  In case Avon shoots first and asks
questions later."  It would only protect against shots to the
upper torso, but that was better than nothing.</p>
<p>     Tarrant winced as the weight of the vest settled onto
his half-healed wounds, but did not protest.</p>
<p>     "Take a gun," Klyn said abruptly, to Blake's
astonishment.</p>
<p>     "Thank you," Tarrant said carefully.  "But I think it
would be best if I met Avon unarmed."		</p>
<p>     "We'll be right behind you," Klyn promised.</p>
<p>     Tarrant nodded, and  moved slowly forward.  Blake gave
him a hundred meters' head start, then followed after him.
There was a narrow, winding path of sorts, but for the most
part it was nothing but bushes and trees on all sides.  Trust
Avon to chose a jungle planet for their rendezvous.  He could
be hiding anywhere...  On the other hand, Blake could be
reasonably confident of remaining hidden himself.		</p>
<p>     Ahead, a voice called out, unseen.  "Stop right there."
Tarrant obeyed, and a familiar figure emerged from the brush.
Avon.</p>
<p>     Before Tarrant could speak, a blonde woman sprang from
the shadows in the opposite direction.  Soolin, the
gunfighter.  Her weapon was drawn.  She was followed by Vila
and Dayna.</p>
<p>     "Avon, he's not alone.  Someone is following him!"</p>
<p>     "Don't worry," Tarrant said, trying to explain.  "That's
just Blake."</p>
<p>     "Blake!" Avon hissed.  His gun jerked up, and he glared
at Tarrant with suspicion.  "You're with Blake," he accused.</p>
<p>     "Don't, Avon," Tarrant said.  His voice was amazingly
steady, considering the fact that he was looking into Avon's
gun at point-blank range.  "I was mistaken about Blake's
allegiance before.  He's on our side."</p>
<p>     For a dreadfully long moment, Blake was afraid that Avon
was just going to shoot Tarrant where he stood.  He tightened
his grip on his own weapon, knowing he could not let that
happen.  Dayna tried to move forward, but Soolin,
anticipating the action, held her back.</p>
<p>     But no one thought to hold Vila.  Very deliberately, he
stepped forward and gave Tarrant an enthusiastic hug.  "I'm
glad the Federation didn't manage to kill you off," he said.
"Avon needs someone to keep him in line."	</p>
<p>     "Vila!" Avon snapped.</p>
<p>     But the thief remained next to Tarrant.  The two men
were standing so close together that it would be impossible
to shoot at one without risking the other.  Vila Restal,
self-proclaimed coward, thus disarmed both camps.</p><hr/>
<p>     Tarrant, standing shoulder to shoulder with Vila, was
fully aware of what the thief had achieved.  Carefully, he
signalled to Blake, and the rebel leader came slowly forward,
Deva and Klyn close behind.</p>
<p>     Avon spared them a brief glance, then stared at Tarrant
for a long moment, examining him carefully.  "You look like
hell," he decided.</p>
<p>     "Thanks a lot."</p>
<p>     Avon frowned suspiciously.  "What happened?" he asked,
eying the bruises that still darkened Tarrant's face.  "Did
Blake do that to you?"</p>
<p>     "No," Tarrant said quickly, seeing Blake bridle.  "He
saved my life, more than once."</p>
<p>     Avon turned slightly away, to where Vila had left Orac
sitting on the grass.  "Orac," he said.  "Confirm identity
via voice print."</p>
<p>     "I'm Del Tarrant," Tarrant said.</p>
<p>     "Identity is confirmed," Orac said.</p>
<p>     That settled, Avon turned his attention to Blake.</p>
<p>     Tarrant tried to reassure him.  "It's all right, Avon.
He's on our side."</p>
<p>     Avon's eyes narrowed, and he glanced uneasily back and
forth between Tarrant and Blake.  Abruptly, he sheathed his
gun.  "Well, where's this ship of yours?" he asked Blake.</p>
<p>     Blake raised startled brows.  "Just like that?"</p>
<p>     Avon shrugged.  "If Tarrant says you're to be trusted, I
believe him."</p>
<p>     "He was wrong about Blake last time," Klyn pointed out.</p>
<p>     "Yes," Avon agreed.  "All the more reason to believe him
now.  Tarrant's not likely to be wrong twice."	</p>
<p>     "If I allow you on my ship, the first thing we do is use
Orac to find out what's become of the rest of my people,"
Blake said firmly.</p>
<p>     Avon glanced at Tarrant, then nodded curtly.  "Agreed.
After that, matters may be renegotiated."</p>
<p>     "Agreed."  Blake sheathed his weapon, and the others
followed suit.</p>
<p>     Released at last, Dayna rushed forward, throwing herself
into Tarrant's arms.  "Tarrant!" she cried.  "We wanted to
rescue you!  But we couldn't get a decent ship!  We thought
you were dead..."			</p>
<p>     Tarrant hugged her with all his strength.  He spoke to
Avon, however.  "You trust me," he said in disbelief.	</p>
<p>     Avon shrugged.  "It wasn't a particularly credible
story.  And it was a simple matter to check with Orac.  After
you were captured, you were made a prisoner of the
Federation, not to mention granted an appointment with the
most vicious interrogator to come down the pipes since
Shrinker...retired.  Therefore, it was unlikely that you were
an undercover agent as you claimed."</p>
<p>     Tarrant considered that.  "I didn't think you'd bother
to check," he said weakly.</p>
<p>     Soolin came forward and embraced him.  "Welcome back,"
she said simply.		</p>
<p>     "If you're finished with your reunion, perhaps we could
find this ship of Blake's?" Avon interrupted.	</p>
<p>     Tarrant grinned devilishly.  "Of course," he said.  He
stepped forward and threw his arms around Avon, hugging him
soundly.  Tarrant felt the other man stiffen with typical
reserve, and he chuckled with the old pleasure of throwing
Avon off-guard.</p>
<p>     But it was Avon who had the last laugh.  He hugged
Tarrant back, then headed down the path, leaving a thoroughly
stunned young man in his wake.</p>
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